A little aviation history

Cemetery gates

The Old Cemetery is a particular joy in spring, with flowers bursting out between the graves and the paths firm and dry. No matter which path I take, there are things to see, both new and old. The names on some graves feel like old friends because I see them so often. Others, I notice for the first time, and their stories intrigue me. Many are personal, but others are entwined with the story of Southampton. The Moon family grave is one of these.

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Silence, sacrifice surprises and swans

One of the first things people notice when entering the Old Cemetery’s main gates is the Cross of Sacrifice. It stands alone, in front of the Church of England chapel, signifying that Commonwealth War Graves are present. In fact, the cemetery contains 127 graves from the two world wars and others from earlier wars, including the Battle of Waterloo, the Charge of the Light Brigade, the Indian Mutiny and the Boer War, along with many Titanic graves. It was also the reason I chose the Old Cemetery as the halfway point in my morning walk with CJ on 11 November.

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Carrying a torch

Parkrun number 463 on 22 October was my turn to write the run report. In time-honoured fashion, I’d prepared some of it in advance, mostly about the ghosts of Southampton Common and the old gallows because Halloween was fast approaching and I like to add a bit of history to my reports. The rest I would fill in later with any PBs, milestone runs and interesting incidents. Morning mist swirled across the flats as we headed towards the set-up team, and the words of Keats To Autumn ran through my head, Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness . . . When I learned them for my English Literature O Level, I was a Haley and had no idea I’d be a Keates one day. 

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May in the old cemetery

As it’s Halloween, I thought I’d share some more tales from the Old Cemetery, although the walk in question was on 21 May, so it was more sunshine and flowers than dark spookiness. Bright pink rhododendrons were bursting out everywhere I looked, and the cemetery was resplendent. It would have been easy to be lulled into a false sense of security, but the shady corners still had a slightly sinister aura. These and the graves in them were what interested me, along with the secrets they keep.

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Bluebells, witches and a family grave

Southampton Common

The Common looked glorious as we walked towards the last parkrun of April. Everything was fresh, green and bursting with life. The air was crisp and rich with the smell of spring, freshly cut grass and damp earth. It was one of those mornings that make you glad to be alive. Of course, my main aim for the morning was visiting the dead, like I do most Saturday mornings. I was especially interested in the bluebells I’d heard were bursting out everywhere in the Old Cemetery.

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Birthdays, bees and blossoms (plus a few graves)

Happy Birthday Southampton parkrun

Saturday 2 July 2022 was Southampton parkrun’s 10th birthday. Sadly, event number 448 did not have the brightest, sunniest weather. The wind was whistling across the flats so much the balloons wouldn’t stay still for my photographs, and looking at the clouds, I couldn’t help wondering if we would all stay dry. The possibility of getting wet didn’t appear to have deterred the runners. As the magic hour of nine o’clock approached, more and more people arrived, and the Common began to fill with lots of smiling faces. Soon the crowds began to gather at the start line.

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Another pandemic Christmas?

Christmas 2021 was a controversial event. The new Omicron variant of COVID had been tearing through the population but the powers that be were divided on what action to take. On one hand, there were loud calls from some for another stringent lockdown. On the other, there was a lot of evidence that the new variant was relatively benign. The result was a combination of confusion and apathy from the general public. The nations of the UK were divided in their approach, which didn’t help with the confusion. Luckily for me, restrictions in England were ruled out before the New Year. Dire warnings were issued by those who disagreed — hospitals would be overwhelmed — millions would die — it would all be the government’s fault. Hyperbole was flying around like Christmas tinsel. As for me, my Christmas morning was spent at Southampton parkrun.

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April, birds, books, stories and flowers

The first parkrun of April 2022 began with puddles, crows and a walk in the Old Cemetery. In a strange way, it felt like an echo of the December parkrun I told you about last time, except it was far warmer and the book hurtling towards publication was a different one. Land Fit For Heroes was with Hayley at Hangar47, just as Plagued had been in December. The only difference to my thoughts about the process was that it now felt as if I’d handed over my second born child. A walk in the cemetery in the early morning light was just the thing to take my mind off all the things that could go wrong. To be honest, I had no idea exactly what could go wrong, but that didn’t stop me worrying about it.

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Christmas comes to the Common

As Commando and I headed across the Common to parkrun, on 11 December 2021, we thought the pandemic was all but over. Well, I did anyway. Of course, we were still all wearing masks in shops and things, and washing our hands every five minutes. Ok, so that might just have been me too, but you get the picture. There was an annoying little variant called Omicron, in the news, but it sounded fairly innocuous, nothing but a bad cold really. The first case had hit our shores at the end of November, but no one was especially worried about it. Well, I wasn’t. It sounded to me as if the virus was doing what viruses generally do, getting weaker. In fact I thought it might be good news.

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In the here and now

Lately, I’ve been posting about 2021, the lockdown, and life slowly getting back to normality. All the while, life in the here and now has been moving on. The threat of COVID may have been downgraded, but the spectre of war has taken its place in the daily news. If researching and writing about the first half of the twentieth century has taught me anything, it’s that the newspapers and the media are not to be trusted. They may be great for propaganda, but they’re not so good for solid facts. Even so, the invasion of Ukraine can hardly be ignored. The parallels between these days and the dark days of the late 1930’s are clear for all to see and my heart breaks for the ordinary citizens of Ukraine.

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